Of Moonbeams and Monsters
by A.E. Reid
Summary: A fairy and possibly zombies in Mystic Falls? Sounds like trouble...
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This takes place some time in the near future, after all this Klaus business has been resolved. None of the characters except Ari are mine, etc., etc._

Night.

The woods are lit by the nearly full moon. Nestled in a copse of bare beech trees is a small cabin Tufts of tall weeds sprout in the decaying plant matter caught in the shingles' rough cracks. To all appearances, the house is deserted. Dry leaves and twigs litter the front porch, and overgrown vines obscure its walls.

Five men prowl through the woods toward the small wood cabin, using more caution that ought to be necessary for an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. The one with short cropped hair and two days' worth of beard stubble catches the others' eyes and hand signals two left and two right to circle around and approach the house from the sides. They melt into the woods as he makes his way to the front porch. The old wood creaks and sags under his weight, despite his careful steps. He grasps the tarnished doorknob and carefully turns it.

Before he can push the door open, a girl dressed in spectral white glides through the door. Her skin glows a phosphorescent blue, and her dark eyes are wide, unseeing. The man jumps back, stumbling over his feet.

"Begone from this place," the girl intones. A phantom wind catches at her dark hair and swirls it around her face. "Beware the curse—"

The man regains his wits and whistles sharply through his teeth. The girl's eyes immediately lose their vacant stare. Fear flashes across her face as the other four men materialize out of the woods.

"We know what you are, honey," he says, leering at her. "Now, it'll be a lot less painful for you if you'd just cut all the ghost crap and come with us."

Her upper lip curls in distaste. "Werewolves," she spits. "I loathe your kind."

"Aw, now I'm hurt," he pretends to pout. "We think you're tasty, if you know what I mean. Now come on, princess." He is standing mere inches away and leans in to inhale deeply against her neck. "Mm, you smell delicious. I'd eat you any phase of the moon."

She recoils from his lips, which graze her skin as he speaks. "Don't make me do something I'd rather not."

Acting as if she hasn't spoken, he grabs her arm, only to have her yank it up, her flesh passing through his hand as if one of them were immaterial. He looks at his hand and then at hers in disbelief.

"I never thought those stories about your kind were true," he says.

"Why don't you and your packmates just go home? Forget you ever found me," she suggests, her voice dangerous and low. "I'm not worth the trouble."

"Oh, believe me, you are," he says. "And unlike the other werewolves, our pack has done some research and we know your weakness."

While he and the girl speak, the man's four packmates close in, surrounding the small porch. They pull silver nets from their belt pouches and shake them open. The soft rustling of metal chains catches the girl's attention and she turns her head just in time to see the werewolf to her right spring forward with the net.

Instinctively, she lunges forward, passing through the man before her as easily as she had through the closed door. The silver nets fall to the floor, empty. The man through whom she passed appears unharmed but clutches at his chest, all color draining from his tan skin. With one final, gasping breath, he falls to his knees and then topples forward. Behind his prone body, the girl remains standing, his still-beating heart clutched in her hand. She lets it fall to the wood floorboards and wipes her bloody hand on her white frock.

"Still think I'm worth the trouble, boys?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow.


	2. Chapter 2

"Stefan, I need to talk to you." Damon snags his younger brother's sleeve as they pass in the front hallway of the boardinghouse.

"Can it wait?" Stefan pauses with a hand on the doorknob, keys in his other hand. "I'm supposed to meet Elena."

"Now." Damon raised his eyebrows and furrowed them dangerously.

His brother sighed, pocketing the keys. "What."

"So I was in the woods last night, taking care of the—well, you know." He gestures vaguely, knowing Stefan understands exactly what he means. "And I came across something strange. Really strange." He punctuates his words with his eyebrows.

"Like what?" Stefan says irritably. "Damon, just spit it out."

"Five werewolves." He pauses for effect. "Dead."

"What?"

"Wait," Damon says, holding up a finger, "it gets weirder. They all looked fine—not a mark on any of them. But I smelled blood, so I sniffed around and found in a hole about a quarter mile off five hearts that looked like they'd been ripped clean out. I went back to the dead wolves and sure enough, none of them had hearts."

"But that doesn't make sense. How did their hearts end up a quarter mile away if their bodies were untouched?"

"That's exactly what I want to know, baby brother," Damon says. "And that's exactly why you're going to cancel whatever plans you have with Elena and come check this out with me." He plucks the car keys from Stefan's pocket. "Come on. I'll drive so you can call from the car."


	3. Chapter 3

The pale winter sun passes easily through the forest's canopy of bare branches and dapples the Salvatore brothers' skin as they scramble down the brambled incline of a dry creek bed. Once at the bottom, Damon walks to the center and kicks aside the layer of dead leaves that covers a hole about the same dimensions as a cardboard box.

"You see," Damon says as he crouches beside the roughly dug hole, "someone definitely had to have ripped these out. Look how uneven the breaks are."

"Yeah," Stefan agrees, kneeling beside his brother to pick up a heart, "but look at this one. It looks like the person's fingers went straight through the heart, took whatever they could fit in a fistful, and left all the other chunks behind."

Damon laughs. "Whoever did this has teeny hands." He holds his own fingers next to the four slim indentations scalloping one side of the heart in Stefan's hand.

"You got a bag on you?" Stefan asks. "I want to hold on to this. Maybe Ric can tell us more."

"Pfft. What do I look like, someone from _CSI: Miami_?"

"Maybe?" Stefan tries.

Damon rolls his eyes, but pulls a gallon ziplock bag from his leather jacket's pocket. "Here," he says, shoving it at Stefan. "But you're answering all the questions if Liz shows up and wants to know what's in the bag."

"Yeah, whatever," Stefan responds, dropping the heart inside.


	4. Chapter 4

They walk nearly a quarter mile down the dry creek bed before Damon stops abruptly. "Do you smell that?"

Stefan sniffs the air. "Mm, yeah. That smells good. Almost as good as Elena."

Damon gives him a "did you really just say that?" look before the two proceed, taking care to move silently on the brittle leaves that cover the creek's pebbled bottom. As they round the next bend, the sound of a shovel biting into soil gradually grows louder. Vampire-fast, they scramble up the steep sides of the creek bed toward the sound, hoping to catch the digger.

To their surprise, they find a petite college-aged girl shoveling dirt into a deep trench. Her dark brown hair is tied back in a messy bun, and her fuchsia t-shirt clings to her sweaty body.

"Whatcha doin'?" Damon asks breezily as he and Stefan approach the girl.

She looks up with a start, a fleeting look of fear on her face before she giggles and waves hello. "Oh my God," she says, leaning on the shovel, "I know this sound totally ridiculous, but I was hiking through the woods here, and I almost like, fell in this bigass hole. I mean, who digs random six-foot-deep holes in the middle of the forest, right?"

"And you just _happened_ to have a shovel in your pocket and decided to fill it in?" Damon says, giving his brother an "is she for real?" look.

"Oh my God," she laughs, pushing Damon's shoulder flirtily with a dirt-flecked hand, "you're so funny! No, I found this leaning on that oak tree over there." She gestures vaguely at the forest, which grows thickly around the ten-foot clearing in which they stand. "Whoever dug this hole must've left it there or something. I just thought I'd like, fill it up so no one else falls in."

"Yeah, I bet you could fit a lot of bod—" Damon starts before Stefan interrupts.

"Do you need any help?"

"That would be _amazing_," she gushes, handing him the shovel. "Thank you so much! I think I'm like, getting blisters, ew."

Stefan grabs the shovel and passes it on to Damon, warning him to behave with a pointed look. Damon narrows his eyes at his brother in a sour look that anyone else would miss.

"Let's sit. You must be exhausted," Stefan says to the girl and settles down on the ground near the trench. "I'm Stefan, and that's my brother Damon"

'I'm Ari," she says, flopping down next to him. "Do you guys like, hike around here often?"

"Sometimes," Stefan says.

"Do you guys always hike in like, leather jackets and dress shirts?" she giggles, twisting a strand of hair in her fingers.

"Today was uh, kind of spur-of-the-moment."

"Hardcore," she says, maintaining eye contact with Stefan a few seconds longer than necessary. When she looks away, her eyes fall on Damon, who is standing in the deep hole, shoveling dirt out instead of in. "Hey! I'm trying to fill up the hole. You're like, making it bigger."

"Don't worry," Damon says, not bothering to look up at her. "I just want to see if there's anything in here, like buried treasure."

"OMG, stop it!" She jumps in the hole, grabbing for the shovel. "If you're just going to ruin my work, I'll do it myself!"

He yanks the handle out of her reach. "Come on, it'll just take a minute."

She grabs for it again, but he extends his arm, keeping the shovel out of her reach. "You are such a jerk!"

"Damon…" Stefan warns, getting up to stand at the edge of the hole.

"Relax," Damon says, looking up. "I got this."

Noticing Damon's momentary distraction, Ari lunges for the shovel and jerks it out of his hand.

"Aw come on," he says. "I was just messing around."

"What_ever_, douchebag" she retorts as she tosses the shovel out of the trench and hauls herself out.

Hey, I'm sorry about the shovel thing," Damon says with a close approximation of sincerity as he climbs out of the hole.

She doesn't respond, only walks to the pile of dirt and jams the shovel in. Suddenly she stiffens and lets go of the shovel to scan the trees around the clearing. The Salvatores watch her curiously. "I think you guys need to leave," she says abruptly, no trace of her ditzy self. "Now."

"I'm sorry, I really mean it," Damon apologizes again. "I promise I won't—"

Listen, I don't care about that," Ari cuts in, a look of barely controlled panic on her face. "You guys just need to go. It's not safe for—" Her words are cut off as 10 figures emerge from the thick woods. "Shit." She moves to put herself between the Salvatores and the approaching people, hands out as if to shield the brothers.

"Well, if it isn't Ariana Patra," drawls the foremost incomer, a man who appears to be the leader of the group. "I didn't think I'd ever find you in the company of vampires. If we'd known, we'd've brought some vervain with us."

"Fuck, for serious?" she looks back at the two. Stefan smiles benignly and shrugs, his arms open in a mea culpa gesture; Damon winks cheekily, allowing his fangs to extend and retract quickly. "Are these daywalkers yours?" she turns back around to address the man.

"As if we werewolves would ever share something as precious as you with their kind," he scoffs.

"And that's why you're not going to touch her," Stefan says, stepping up to stand beside Ari.

The werewolves laugh. "You're no match for ten of us. Just give her to us and we'll let you run back to Mystic Falls."

"Ari ripped out the hearts of the five who came last night," Damon says, stepping forward as well. "So I'd say we're about even." He winks at Ari, who glares at him in return.

Without warning, the werewolves lunge forward. Several drop the heavy silver nets they carry and break off stout branches to use as makeshift stakes. Stefan and Damon extend their fangs in response, sanguine veins rising to the surface of the skin beneath their onyx eyes. Ari closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

Stefan leaps on the nearest werewolf, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he sinks his fangs into her jugular. She manages to embed her stake in his neck before he tosses her corpse aside. Damon is attacked by two werewolves at once, both burly men at least a half size bigger than he. He dodges their blows, unable to get close enough to deal a fatal strike. Stefan yanks out the branch and jabs it through the left eye of the man coming at him from behind. As soon as the stake is out of his neck, the wound heals, leaving behind a sticky wash of blood.

Stefan speeds over to help his brother, snapping the neck of one assailant before either can process his presence. The other werewolf is distracted just long enough for Damon to lunge past the stake and rip out his throat. As the man falls to the ground, the clearing goes quiet Stefan and Damon turn toward the trees, fearing that Ari has been overpowered and carried off by the remaining six.

Instead, they see her slim figure standing unsteadily near the edge of the trees, six bodies scattered around her.

"Jesus Christ," Damon says. "I was just bluffing when I said you'd killed those other werewolves." He and Stefan hurry toward her. As they approach, they notice several vertebrae, a couple of hearts, and what looks like chunks of intestine littering the ground beside the unmarked bodies.

"Are you going to drain my blood now?" she asks them, trying to smile as she turns to face them. "I know it's irresistible to you."

"Aw, come on, we don't run around drinking from _every_ nice-smelling human we come across," Damon responds.

Ari laughs. "Wait, you guys think I'm human?"

"What, are you a werewolf or a witch?" Stefan wants to know, suddenly concerned. "Is this some kind of pack feud we're getting mixed up in?"

"Oh my God," she rubs her forehead as if nursing a migraine. Her words start to slur. "I didn't realize vampires could be so clueless."

"Hey—" Damon starts to protest.

Stefan puts a hand out to cut him off. "So what are you?"

Ari sways where she stands. "Do you promise not to harm me or hand me over to the werewolves?"

"Yes," Damon and Stefan both say impatiently.

She takes a deep breath, as if gathering up the dregs of her energy, and extends her hand, palm down in an almost fascist salute. "Then I bind you to your word."

"What?" Stefan says, not expecting this turn of events.

As if in response, she collapses on the ground.

"Well, _that's_ classic," Damon drawls as Stefan hurries forward to check her pulse.

"Unconscious," Stefan announces. "But check out the burns she's got. It looks like they're from the nets."

Damon comes over to examine the latticework of raw, blistered skin that matches the silver nets' weave. It covers the right side of her face and trails down her neck. Both her forearms are burned to the point that the crisscrossing burn lines have become one solid patch of red skin around the bits of the nets embedded in her flesh.

"Shit," Damon says, peeling a section of silver chain out of her palm. "She's not going to be happy when she wakes up."

"More importantly, what was that whole 'I bind you to your word' thing about?" Stefan asks, rising to his feet and looking at the carnage around them.

"I don't know, but it reeks of magic," Damon says darkly.

"Yeah, but she's not a witch, or else she would've gotten rid of the bodies with magic."

"True," Damon agrees, standing up. "And speaking of which, we probably need to get rid of all these."

"Think they'll fit in that hole she dug? It's almost six feet deep."

"Yeah. It's almost like she knew they'd be coming," Damon says, grabbing the collar of the nearest corpse and dragging it to the trench. "When I found the bodies last night, they were just covered with some branches. She must've come back to bury them this morning and figured she'd make room for a few more."

"Well, she's going to have to answer a lot of questions when she wakes up." Stefan rolls a body into the hole. "Whenever that'll be."

It is only a matter of minutes before the bodies are stacked and buried. As Damon brushes the freshly turned dirt with a branch and scatters leaves over it to erase any indication of what les beneath, Stefan gathers up the silver nets.

"Aw shit," he says, nudging a vertebra with the toe of his boot, "we forgot to bury the body parts too."

"Wrap them up in the nets," Damon says. "We might as well take them with us."

"You got another Ziploc?" Stefan asks. "I don't want to get werewolf blood all over my car."

Damon rolls his eyes, but produces another from his pocket.

"Keep this up, and you'll be a soccer mom in no time," Stefan teases as he grabs the bag.

"Shut up," Damon advises.

Stefan laughs and fills the bag with body parts. "Ready to go?" he asks, slinging the nets over one shoulder. "You get to carry her." He nods at the still-unconscious Ari.

"Yippee," Damon says as he unceremoniously slings her over his shoulder. "What?" he says defensively, seeing Stefan's "for serious?" expression. "She's unconscious. She'll never know."


	5. Chapter 5

When they arrive at the Boardinghouse, Alaric's car is parked in the front drive. He is leaning against the hood of his car, grading papers.

"So, what's this emergency?" he asks when Stefan pulls up.

"Werewolf attacks, internal body parts in Ziploc baggies—you know, the usual," Damon says as he hops out of the car and fetches the unconscious girl from the trunk.

Alaric begins to roll his eyes but stops when he sees Ari's limp body in Damon's arms. "What did you do to her?" he asks incredulously.

"Jeez," the vampire complains, "how come every time a half-dead girl shows up, everyone just assumes it's my fault?"

"Because it usually is," Stefan says simply, grabbing the bloody Ziplocs and silver nets from the back seat and heading for the door. "So Ric, how much do you know about supernaturals other than vampires, witches, and werewolves?"

"A little," he says. "Isobel would probably have more in her files."

Stefan explains the situation as he and Alaric follow Damon into the basement.

"From the sound of it, I'd say she's a fairy," Alaric says as Damon deposits Ari on the stone bench in the same cell he had been imprisoned when he first arrived at Mystic Falls.

"You mean a wings-and-pixie dust fairy?" Damon asks, sounding disgusted.

"Well, just looking at her, I'd say the wings thing is a myth," Alaric says. "But other than that, the severe reaction to silver and the unmarked bodies missing hearts sounds exactly like a fairy."

"Lovely," Damon says sarcastically. "Too bad I don't have any spare teeth to put under my pillow."

"So is she going to be okay?" Stefan asks.

Alaric shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine. Her burns are second-degree, at worst, and I'm pretty sure what silver is in her skin isn't lethal for her. Then again, I'll bet those dead werewolves looked just fine."

"More importantly," Damon says, "how do we make sure she doesn't rip out our hearts once she wakes up?"

Another shrug from Alaric. "Short of swaddling her in those silver nets and risking further burns, I have no idea."

"What if we wear the silver?" Stefan suggests.

"Ooh, silver togas. Sexy," Damon says.

"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of that decorative armor that's up in the attic," Stefan responds. "But if you'd like to wear those nets instead, by all means—"

"Okay," Alaric says, cutting the brothers' spat short, "I'm going to go home and see what I can dig up on fairies before Jenna comes for dinner. I feel like I've read that 'I bind you to your word' thing before somewhere."

"Great," Stefan says, rising as well. "And I'll go look for silver in the attic, which means you get to wear the sexy toga and watch the fairy." He throws the heavy pile of metal net at his brother.

"Thanks," Damon says sarcastically as the two quickly leave the cell before Damon can pawn the fairy watching off on one of them. With a sigh, he settles on the floor, cocooning himself in silver.


	6. Chapter 6

The Salvatore attic is surprisingly uncluttered, given its being in use for over a century. Still, trunks and sheet-shrouded furniture cover every inch of floor space. There is a large window at both ends of the low-ceilinged room, and golden afternoon light streams through the flurry of dust motes. Elena climbs up the narrow pull-down staircase, looking around eagerly at the mysterious items around her. She spots Stefan seated between a full-length gilded mirror and a steamer trunk from the '20s. Stealthily, she hurries across the distance between them and pounces on his back. "Gotcha!" she giggles, throwing her full weight on him so he tips forward.

"Aah, man down!" Stefan laughs, swaying dangerously from side to side. Elena squeals, wrapping her arms tighter around his shoulders. He laughs and rights himself, giving her a quick kiss over his shoulder.

"So when do I get to meet that fairy that Damon found?" she asks, nuzzling his neck.

"As soon as we're sure that she's not going to rip your heart out," Stefan says sensibly.

"But she's unconscious," Elena argues. "She can't do anything if she's passed out."

"We'll see," Stefan says. "First, we need to find this silver decorative armor, okay?"

"Mmkay," she agrees. "What can I do to help?"

"Why don't you look through those trunks?" He points to three steamer trunks stacked a short distance away. "We're looking for a silver chain mail shirt. It should be hard to miss."

"Why do you have one, anyway?" she asks, opening the clasps of the topmost trunk. "It's not really standard-issue Civil War armor."

"Ah, well, actually, it's from a costume party," Stefan says, sounding a little uncomfortable. "You know, back in the day, I used to go all-out for those things."

"And you were a knight in shining armor who lost almost all his armor?" Elena teases.

"Sounds about right," Stefan laughs.

They search in relative silence until Stefan's phone vibrates. He pulls his iPhone from his pocket to see that it's Damon calling.

"So I just got off the phone with Ric," Damon says when Stefan answers. "You're probably not going to believe this, but he says that there is one thing that will keep her from walking through walls or reaching in and tickling our livers: daisy chains."

"Daisy chains?" Stefan echoes, incredulous.

"Yeah. Believe me, I thought Ric was shitting me." Stefan can almost hear Damon rolling his eyes. "So all we've got to do is pick a bunch of daisies, make a big chain of them, and drape them over the fairy. Then, boom, magic powers suppressed."

Stefan laughs. "Maybe those hippies actually were on to something with their daisy chains."

"Nah, I think that was just to hide the fact that they never wore deodorant," Damon quips. "Anyway, since you've got Elena, maybe one of you could go get some daisies and start working on the chain. I mean, I would do it myself, but I just don't want this crazy fairy to grow wings and fly away while I'm out frolicking in the fields."


End file.
